


Bras

by Amuly



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-08
Updated: 2010-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto is baffled as how to put on a bra. PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bras

Ianto fiddled with the piece of clothing, arms stretched behind his back. There were three hooks…and he wanted that first row…wait, did he just hook the middle hook onto the top loop second row?

A chuckle rose from the bed. “You know, women don’t even try to hook them on blind.”

Ianto sighed, letting his hands drop in defeat. The bra swung loose from his shoulders, none of the hooks actually finding their place, in the end. “What do you mean?”

“Here,” Jack casually slung himself off the bed, wandering over to where Ianto was standing. He gestured for the bra, which Ianto slipped off his shoulders and handed over gratefully. Bloody thing was a Rubik’s cube.

Jack turned the bra backwards, so that the hooks were in the front. “See?” He clipped the hooks in place, spun the bra around his torso, and slung the straps over his shoulders. “Now _that’s_ how you put on a bra.”

Ianto couldn’t help grinning back at Jack, who was standing so proudly, clad only in the lacey red bra. “Bravo, Captain. All right, I think I’ve sorted it. Let me have a go.”

Before Jack took the bra off, he tilted his head curiously at Ianto. “You know, you’ve had girlfriends. Haven’t you ever noticed how they put it on?”

Ianto blushed. “Generally more concerned in the getting it off part than the putting it on.”

That got Jack’s attention. He sidled closer to Ianto, pressing their naked lower halves together. “Want to show me your technique?”

Cupping a hand up to Jack’s face, he pulled him in for a kiss. Their tongues tangled and, in the moment of distraction, Ianto reached his free hand around Jack’s back and deftly undid the three hooks.

Jack pulled back, gasping. “You wicked boy, Ianto Jones!”

Ianto winked and shot Jack a leer that would give even the legendary Captain Harkness a run for his money. “Alright, I think I’ve got the putting on part sorted; hand it over.” Kissing him one last time, Jack slipped the bra off his shoulders and passed it to Ianto. He trotted back over to the bed, taking back up his leisurely position, lounging there and watching Ianto get dressed 

Imitating Jack’s previous methods, Ianto turned the bra around and snapped it in the front. Jack was right: much easier than putting it on blind. Once secured, Ianto spun the bra around and pulled it up over his chest, slipping his shoulders into the straps. The left strap slipped off, and he arched an eyebrow over at Jack. “Can you tighten my strap? It’s a bit loose,” he purred. 

Jack bounded off the bed immediately, fingers reaching for the strap. Ianto noted that Jack’s fingers were shaking a little bit as he manipulated the little piece of plastic, and even after he finished, Jack’s fingertips lingered, caressing Ianto’s shoulder.

“Alright, Jack. Not finished yet.”

Obediently Jack went back to the bed. With a cheeky grin, Ianto walked over to his bureau and pulled out a matching pair of red, lacy panties. He saw Jack’s breath hitch, and cock swell even more. Jack’s hand snaked down and started stroking himself as he watched Ianto oh-so-slowly bend over and step into the lingerie. Ianto’s own arousal was aching to be touched, but he resolutely ignored it. He was going to work Jack into a frenzy, tonight.

Inch by inch he slipped the lingerie up his legs. Turning away from him, Ianto coyly let Jack watch as the red lace covered his arse. He tucked himself in, feeling somewhat frustrated that his erection tented the panties into uselessness in the front. His balls were hanging out the bottom, but there was not enough material to tuck them into, so he left them as they were. 

“Ianto…” the moan told him his methods were working on Jack, at least. He glanced over his shoulder, a grin spreading across his face as he saw Jack, forehead beading with sweat as he jerked himself. He was approaching the brink quickly: Ianto could tell he was losing control by the way his hand would speed up in its strokes, then suddenly slow back down. 

“Jack,” Ianto teased. “I think we should-”

Jack’s mobile rang in the kitchen. Both men groaned, neither bothering to feign patience. Jumping off the bed, Jack kissed Ianto firmly. With a sigh he smacked his lace-covered arse, then bounded out of the room to answer the phone.

Ianto pouted, just a little. It was all going so well, and then that mobile…he ran a hand through his hair. Couldn’t be helped.

Eyes alighting on the last two components of his outfit, a smile slowly returned to Ianto’s face. No reason they had to keep this in the bedroom, and if Jack didn’t have to leave…

Ianto slipped on the red heels, wincing as they pinched his toes. He shrugged on the red negligee and walked – quite steadily, since he had been practicing in private – to the kitchen.

Jack was still on the phone when Ianto walked into the kitchen, his back to the bedroom door. “Yeah. … Okay. … That’s fine, Toshiko, just…yeah, I’m sort of in the middle…okay. … See you tomorrow.”

Ianto stalked across the kitchen, heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. He was on top of Jack by the time he registered the noise and started to turn around. They kissed, Jack’s hands automatically going to Ianto’s arse and squeezing tight. “Ianto…” he mumbled into the kiss.

“Not anything pressing?” He arched an eyebrow as he asked.

Jack grinned. “Well, not on the phone. Here,” Jack gripped Ianto’s arse and thrust their groins together, hot arousals meeting through the lace barrier, “there might be something _pressing_.”

Ianto allowed himself just a few satisfying grinds against Jack, eyes fluttering closed at the contact. Regaining control, he pushed Jack off of him. “Do you like the rest?” He did a little spin, letting the negligee float outwards and the heels clack on the tile.

When he turned to face Jack again, his eyes widened at the unadulterated lust that was coursing through Jack’s body. His breathing was quick, his eyes dilated, cock red and weeping. “Ianto,” he growled, snatching Ianto up into a messy kiss. Teeth clacked and nipped at lips, while tongues did little more than _licklicklick_ rather than move with any finesse. “Fucking you here.” Ianto moaned in agreement, unable to keep up his cool façade any longer. 

“Yes Jack. F-fu-fuck me.”

He should have known not to swear when Jack was already this aroused: the sound of Ianto swearing did unspeakable things toward turning Jack on. The next thing he knew, Jack was shoving him against the stainless steel fridge, finger slipping inside him.

“Ah, Jack!” Ianto slapped a hand against the fridge, not noticing how the dishes on top rattled. “Lube, need…”

Jack made an animalistic, whining noise, ripping himself away from Ianto. He scrambled at the drawer next to them, pulling out olive oil. “Okay?”

“Fine, fine, just – _oh_.” Ianto slammed his head back as Jack shoved two slick fingers inside him. His thumb was running over and over the lacy red panties, even as his other fingers worked Ianto open. The expression on Jack’s face was pained as he took the time to stretch Ianto – Jack obviously wanted to be inside Ianto _now_ , but couldn’t risk not preparing him beforehand. Jack’s fingers slid over Ianto’s prostate once, and his hand flew to his cock, squeezing the base tight to keep from coming. “Jack, now; please, need…”

Ianto found himself being spun around, cheek pressed against the cool face of the refrigerator. He felt Jack’s hands scrambling around with the panties, sliding them to the side but not taking them off. “Ianto, gonna fuck you with them on. So fucking hot, so sexy,” he was mumbling nonsense as he mouthed at the juncture of Ianto’s neck and shoulder. Ianto reached for the sides of the fridge at the last minute, fingers curling around the edges. As Jack entered him – _so full_ –he was glad he had, because his knees threatened to buckle. His knuckles went white, gripping at the sides of the fridge.

“Jaaaaack.” His name ripped out of Ianto’s throat more as a guttural moan, as Jack buried himself inside. 

They stilled, breathing hard. Ianto’s legs felt weak: he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stay standing, especially not with the heels. Jack’s hands were roaming his body: caressing the panties, drifting under the negligee, fondling the bra.

“Jack, please,” Ianto pushed back against Jack, ignoring the way his vision went white at even the little bit of movement.

“Wait,” Jack whispered. His mouth was still pressed firmly against the side of Ianto’s neck. “Need to…calm down,” Jack took in a shuddering breath. “Want to appreciate it all…” His hands slipped beneath the bra, tweaking Ianto’s nipples. Ianto gasped, canting his hips backwards again. “So hot, Ianto. Don’t know what you do to me…”

“Need you to do something to me, Jack,” Ianto whined.

Jack’s hands stayed on Ianto’s chest, rolling the hard nubs between their fingers. But his hips pulled back, _so_ slowly, until he thrust them back in. Matching moans filled the kitchen, and Jack’s patience apparently ran out. He started thrusting into Ianto with abandon, slamming him into the fridge with every harsh pound. 

Ianto moaned wantonly, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Jack’s cock moved inside of him, scraping over his prostate and sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through him. His cock rubbed against the cool metal of the fridge through the lace with every harsh thrust, and the contrast between Jack’s searing heat at his back and the fridge’s cool at his front was too much. He was spiraling out of control, lost in the mindless pursuit of his own pleasure.

Against his skin, Jack continued to mumble all sorts of nonsense phrases. “Ianto, Ianto. Fuck, so good. The lace… _fuck_ …Ianto, it’s…it’s dragging across me, every time I pound you. Ianto, can’t last, too good…” Jack’s hands dropped from Ianto’s nipples, scrambling at his thighs. “Deeper, Ianto, have to…” 

Ianto cried out as Jack lifted him, spreading his legs so that he was straddling the fridge, feet landing on the countertops on either side. Jack hadn’t stopped pounding into him the whole time, and the angle change just served to press him deeper inside. “ _Jack!”_ Ianto’s head fell back, relying entirely on Jack to support him. His heels slid over the edges of the counters, one coming loose and dangling on the end of his toes. 

“Coming…Ianto…need…”

“Jack, _please_ ,” Ianto cried. He couldn’t remember how to work his fingers, how to remove their claw-like grip from the fridge to stroke himself. His arousal was weeping, precome completely soaking through the lace and dripping down to settle in the thick nest of pubic hair at the base. Jack’s hips were pistoning now, his own orgasm growing more and more imminent. The fridge rattled and shook with the force of Jack’s thrusts. With a sharp cry Jack bit down on Ianto’s neck. Ianto felt his orgasm rock through him, just that little bit of extra stimulation all he needed to send him careening over the edge. He shouted, come spurting out of him and marring the unblemished face of the fridge. His whole body shook as his orgasm raged, whiting out his vision and blocking out all else.

Jack was coming, too. Ianto could feel his come spurting inside of him, wet heat filling him. Jack’s hips slammed into him, spreading Ianto’s legs so wide against the fridge it was painful. Ianto didn’t care: he was still crying out his release.

The aftershocks flowed through both men, and they froze in position as their bodies twitched and shook. A few shuddering heartbeats later, and Ianto pulled his legs back, releasing his fingers’ grip on the edge of the fridge. He crumpled against Jack, who collapsed to the ground, taking Ianto with him. 

They lay there for a long time: Jack sprawled on his back, Ianto lying on top of him. Minutes passed before Ianto could come to his senses enough to roll off Jack. He blinked and looked down at himself. The panties were completely ruined: his erection had ripped a hole through the lace, and come stains littered it. Some back corner of his mind noted that the hole must have been how his come ended up on the fridge.

Next to him, Jack groaned. He hauled himself into a sitting position, blinking and looking at Ianto. “I think I passed out.”

Ianto had to laugh at that. Jack pouted. “No, really. I think I did. The last thing I remember was you clenching around me.”

Ianto winced as he rubbed at his groin. “Then you don’t remember turning me into an Olympic gymnast with that split.”

At Jack’s worried expression, Ianto waved him off. “It’s fine. Just stretched a bit further than I thought physically possible.” 

Ianto watched as Jack took in the sight of him for the first time since their orgasms. A lazy grin spread across his face. He looked practically _proud_ of himself. “Oh, my sexy Welshman. You look thoroughly fucked.”

Ianto groaned and flopped back down on the cold tile floor. “I _feel_ fucked. Buggered into next week.” He frowned. “And we ruined the panties.”

Jack grinned. “I ripped the back open, about halfway through.”

Ianto stuck his flaccid penis out the hole in the front. “On my end, too.” He sighed, eyes drifting shut. “I wouldn’t know how to get come out of lace anyway.”

“Do you know how to get it off stainless steel?” Jack sniggered.

Without opening his eyes Ianto batted a hand. “It’ll wipe right off.” He cracked an eye open and looked at the fridge with Jack. “We moved it out by a foot or so.”

Jack tilted his head, looking at the newly repositioned fridge. “Yeah, looks like we did.” He laughed. “Next time we have to move it so you can clean behind it, can we do it this way? It’s a lot more fun that swearing and sliding it for an hour.” 

Ianto let his eyes drift closed again as he nodded absently. He felt Jack’s weight settle on top of him, and he tilted his head for a kiss. Jack obliged, pressing his lips to Ianto’s in a lingering, post-coital kiss. His hands busied themselves with pressing open Ianto’s negligee, and Ianto sighed as those hands stroked a path up and down his stomach.

“We’ll have to go back to that store, buy another ten pairs of those panties. The bra and negligee still seem fine.”

Ianto hummed noncommittally. “Sexy underwear is expensive, Jack.”

“Good thing I pay you so well, then.”

Ianto felt Jack slap a hand on his flank. He didn’t even flinch – either too sated or too used to Jack’s behaviors to care, Ianto wasn’t sure which himself. “Come on, bed.”

Stretching languidly, Ianto opened his eyes to see Jack’s hand waggling in his face, offering him help up. He took it, hauling himself to his feet. Too late he remembered the heels, still miraculously attached to his feet. He stumbled, but fell only as far as Jack’s chest, who caught him and held him tight.

“I feel a sudden urge to say something corny out of an old movie.” Jack mock-frowned down at Ianto. “‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn’.”

Ianto glared at Jack. “If you’re going to treat me like a damsel, then you can carry me to the bedroom.” He didn’t expect Jack to take him up on it, and it was with a sudden shock that Jack scooped up Ianto and carried him, like a new wife over the threshold. Ianto laughed, shoving at Jack’s chest. “Jack...”

But Jack just shook his head. “I’m taking you to bed, Ianto Jones, and you’re not getting out of it.” 

Ianto laughed again as Jack tossed him down onto the bed, bouncing once before settling into the sheets. Jack was there the next instant, crawling over him and settling on his back. Ianto rolled over and curled up against Jack: one leg slung over his, arm on his chest, face buried in his neck. Their favorite position. Ianto’s satisfied mind quickly squelched the dark thoughts that threatened to well up. _Mind-blowing sex, then this domestic? Getting used to this position. Routine. Used to Jack. Too used…_ He breathed deep, shivering in the face of Jack’s pheromones, which were rolling off him in buckets. 

Ianto felt Jack shift, then a kiss to the top of his head. “Let you sleep for a bit, but if you wake up and I’m shagging the bra, it’s not my fault.”

Ianto toed off the heels and kicked them off the bed. “Fine,” he mumbled. “Just try not to wake me.” Jack’s chest rumbled with laughter. The feel and sound of it was like a sleep tape to Ianto, and it carried him off, into oblivion.

   



End file.
